


The Diary of Iqbal Syed

by The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi



Series: Raazi Canon Fics [4]
Category: Raazi
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Iqbal's thoughts, Romance, idk how people would feel about this but I'm pretty sure this is exactly how he felt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi/pseuds/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi
Summary: The events of "Raazi" as they happen from Iqbal's perspective.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Raazi, Dharma productions and Junglee pictures do.
> 
> I will try to keep things as canon related as possible, but that might be a little hard so. Bear with me?
> 
> The events of this work are not completely historically accurate, and at some points are completely off from reality, but then so is the movie. `\/(u_u)\/`

Wednesday, 

6th January 1971 11: 50 P.M.

Our days have become even longer with the coming of the new year–they are now more determined than ever to keep the country united, and our eastern brothers are likewise determined to gain freedom. 

There have been small revolts in East Pakistan, and though they’ve been subdued easily enough, it is clear that these are a fraction of what is yet to come. It is miraculous that they’ve been able to keep the citizens there subdued enough for them to not have given the official call for secession yet, although I’m not nearly as sure about the means which are being employed for the purpose.

Abba says that if his information is correct, and if the plan succeeds, there is a very good chance of either him, or Farooqi being promoted to Major-General. Abba plans to win Lt. General Beig over by tracking down rogue officers who have deserted the army in hopes of finding the Training camps which the East Pakistani freedom fighters have established. Between maintaining regiments at the border and in East, we’re hardly going to be home now.

And yes, I did manage to forget my wallet back home yet again today, which bhaijaan has not failed to notice. He reckons I should put up a note on my closet door to remind me of it. I wonder if I actually should. It’d at least save me from the jokes he makes at my expense.

We have to leave early again tomorrow, Lt. Colonel Khan has called a meeting to review the regiments at the border, and see if they need strengthening. It’s going to be a long day.

Good night.

Iqbal S.


	2. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fast forwards to the day on which we see Hidayat Sahab and Brigadier Syed meeting each other and Hidayat Sahab pronounces his wish of marrying Sehmat to Iqbal.

Monday,

11th january

11:45 P.M.

The situation is getting worse in the East. There have been more reports of abandonments and mutinies in the army, and the rogue officers have joined the rebellion, which now calls itself the ‘Mukti Fauj’. The most worrying of all news, however, is that India is helping East Pakistan gain independence. They are mostly sure of it. If this is the case, the field marshal won’t hesitate in taking up arms against the country, without thinking of the consequences. Now, due to the suspicion of involvement, we are to deploy two more regiments to the border, even though it was established last week that our platoons are strong. It has now become imperative we determine as soon as possible what involvement India has in our internal matters, and what they are planning. One thing is for certain–If India interferes in our internal conflicts, war will be unavoidable.

On another note, I have managed yet again to forget my wallet  _ and _ my watch today. I had to borrow from bhaijaan. And… Abba called me into his study today, after we were done with dinner. I was completely unprepared for the bomb he dropped on me. 

An old friend of his from college, Hidayat Khan Sahab, with whom he still is in contact regularly, has proposed his daughter’s hand in marriage. Khan sahab is a good friend of Abba’s. He has always spoken highly of him. The family is Indian, and I understand that accepting this proposal would be a huge risk, but Abba is prepared to take it. He has a certain faith in his friend which is unwavering. His voice had been heavy with emotion when he had told me about Hidayat Sahab’s illness. It is his wish to see his daughter, Sehmat, happily married before he succumbs to his illness, and Abba is more than happy to turn their friendship into family.

He has handed me a photograph of her, and told me about her. She is 20, four years younger than I am, and is studying literature in Delhi University. Abba is very happy about this proposal, and wants me to accept it. He told me as much, although I’m not entirely sure if it was an advice, or a request, or an order. 

It has been a strange day.

Iqbal. S


	3. Pondering

Wednesday,

13th January

10:39 P.M.

Although Abba told me to take my time and think things over calmly before accepting or rejecting the proposal, he has been looking towards me with expectant eyes at every turn for the last two days. 

If I’m being completely honest, I’ve been putting off on deciding it ever since I’ve been told to make this decision. I honestly wasn't thinking about getting married for all this while, but now… I don’t know. Even if I  _ were _ to decline the offer, what is stopping abba from looking into other suitors? I  _ am _ of marriageable age, bhaijaan himself had gotten married a little before the age of 24. 

Besides, now that I’m actually thinking about it, I guess Sehmat is not a bad choice as a

Life partner. Abba has been dropping me some tidbits of information about her, things Hidayat sahab had once told him about her. Things I know about her tell me that she’d be a wonderful companion, and heaven knows I do need such company. She is beautiful also. 

You can imagine me with my face in my hands right now because that is what I’m doing right now, just  _ wondering! _ Wondering if I want to get married, and if I do, do I want to marry Sehmat?

This would all be so much better if abba wasn't involved in this. I just wish I were able to decide faster, so I’d be able to go back to working instead of pondering this idea.

I am in need of advice.

Iqbal. S


	4. Acceptance and after

Sunday,

24th January

11:15 P.M.

Everything around here is quiet now, it's almost unnerving. Even East is relatively quiet, perhaps in the anticipation of the announcement of the members of the general assembly. There are still a few small brawls scattered across, but that's about it all.

The situation of the household, however, has changed drastically ever since I have decided to just listen to myself and accepted the marriage proposal and every one of us is on varying stages of pre-wedding happiness. The most excited, however, is without exception Munira bhabhi, because she is finally getting a companion to spend her day with. "It gets dull without company" as she tells me.

The rest of my extended family has also been informed of the upcoming ceremony, much to my dismay. I had hoped against hope that it'd be a quiet affair, but Abba is all about grandeur. I do like my aunts and uncles and cousins, it's just… you do not want to be the youngest cousin in my family. I despise people fawning over me and telling me how much I have grown since they'd last seen me. And it is sure to happen now, of course. I'm getting married now and the last time they'd seen me, I was not even of age. It was at Bhaijaan's wedding and I turned eighteen the week after.

Abba wants it to be as soon as is possible, but since we will have to go to India, it is going to take a while for the paperwork to be done with. Which reminds me, I'm going to have apply for a leave. I suppose it is good that things are quiet then, or it'd never be approved.

Goodnight

Iqbal.S


	5. Preparations

Saturday,

13th February

10:45 P.M.

Absolutely _nothing _has happened yet anywhere, despite our heads telling us that the inaction from the East is just the calm before the storm. The prospect of the Elections have more or less settled them. Either that, or our regiments deployed have established a Reign of Terror. Abba cannot be happier about this, he was worried our leaves for the next month wouldn't be approved–he did say Beig was sceptical about all three of us going. They've been granted, however. Lt. Gen. Beig was quite happy about the occasion, as Abba tells me. So happy, that he said that if anything _did _go wrong, he and Farooqi would handle it. Abba's not quite as happy about that.

I've received phone calls from almost all of my relatives in these past two weeks, all of them wanting to speak exclusively to me. They're all very excited about it, of course, but most aren't going to be able to make it to the actual wedding–they couldn't get the permission to go to India. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little relieved. They'll be coming here for the reception instead. My cousins had a lot more to say, however, things I'd rather not repeat. They think it's very amusing that their little baby cousin is getting married. Meeting them is not something I'm looking forward to.

Munira bhabhi is as excited as ever and has taken over the preparations entirely. She's been looking into things I didn't even know were needed. All I can say is, thank god for Munira Bhabhi.

I guess I'm a little excited, too. Or, at least, that's what I make of the peculiar feeling I get every time I think of it.

Iqbal.S


	6. A Conversation

Monday,

1st March

11:15 P.M.

We leave for India tomorrow, and the wedding is in four days, on the Fifth. Excitement and Nervousness are both at their peak now that the day is so near. Today, like he had done some two months prior, Abba called me into his study again—he's trying to sort things out as much as he can before we leave in case General Khan's calling off the National council's session has any retribution from the people—and we had a conversation that is probably passed down through generations. I did feel a little indignant when Abba told me in no uncertain terms to treat Sehmat like the queen she is, as if I would have ever considered otherwise, but I suppose it is necessary, sometimes. I gave him my word that I would, of course I would. I've seen Abba tell this to so many of my cousins when I was little, too little to understand the implications. Looking back, some of them did need to be told this.

He peered at me then, leaning back in his chair, and sighed that sigh only parents can and wondered aloud when it was that I had grown up. He mentioned Ammi for what has to be the first time in years. He never talks about her...but today he told me that Ammi would've been proud of me. That she probably is, from where she is looking down at us. Abba's eyes were shining. I left after that. I wish I could console him but I don't really know how.

I have to admit I did allow myself a small moment of weakness when I was in the safety of my bedroom. It has been thirteen years now since Ammi's death but it hurts just the same. Maybe even worse. It won't ever stop hurting.

Iqbal. S


	7. The Wedding

Saturday,

6th March

5:15 A.M.

I think it's going to take a long time for the fact that I am now married to sink in. It certainly hasn't established itself in the past seven hours. We've all gotten maybe two, three hours of sleep and we are to depart for home within another two hours so that we can be there by tomorrow night and get back to work the day after(which Abba is very anxious about ever since the news of the massacre in the East two days ago).

The marriage was as grand an affair as I had expected it to be. Neither of us(us being Bhabhi, Bhaijaan and I) had expected for there to be anyone other than us from our side but we were wrong. I'd known, of course, that Abba had lived in this valley before the partition, and so had Ammi, but I suppose that fact had never manifested itself into flesh before now.

So many of the people that I've met today were a part of Abba's life before the partition, his college friends, his neighbours, we even have some family here that I've never met—Ammi's side of the family. They are her parents—my grandparents—and an uncle. My grandmother cried when she saw me. Everyone present only remembers me from when I was about a year old. And Abba looks so happy, so at home. I saw some of his old friends reminiscing about their exploits from when they were younger, and they sounded like memories of a different life. This is the sort of thing that fills you with wondrous amazement and a warm, happy feeling. It is surreal.

Sehmat and I have not had a chance to interact yet—having an entrounge of giggling girls around your bride is a little off-putting, if you'd believe it. I am more than a little lost about how I should approach her. I understand that this is probably as awkward for her as it is for me, maybe even more so. She has to leave behind her family, too...I am going to make the effort it takes to get her settled in. It's the least I can do.

Iqbal S.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it shows in the movie that they get to Rawalpindi within a day but it actually takes two days.


	8. Settling In

Monday,

8th March

10:50 P.M

Everything has now gotten hectic at work because everyone is now convinced that we need to send more regiments towards East to maintain "Peace", especially now that the number of deaths are rising there, and the bureaucrats are likewise convinced that it would do no good and we need to strengthen regiments at the Indo-Pakistan border instead. I wish sometimes that I could see their reasoning, even a single shred of reason, if only to convince myself that my country's government is not run by complete idiots. Now they are going to run a few badly done checks and recite the reports in the parliament, as if everyone does not already know exactly what is going on, and _then_ tell us that we need to deploy regiments towards East, which is what we were to do in the first place, but now it'll be a lot more delayed thanks to political propaganda that the ministry people are up to. Why is it that all bureaucrats feel the need to mess with their countries' uniformed counterparts anyway?

On the other hand, I don't think I have ever truly been as grateful to have Munira bhabhi as a family member as I am now. I don't know how but she has this inherent ability of being able to recognize a person who is in need of help, and then offering her help like the godsent she is. She manages to drop hints as to how I would best be able to help Sehmat settle in, and what she would be expecting and little things that would make her more comfortable, although she leaves those hints for me to interpret the best of my ability. Another one of her inherent abilities is speaking in riddles—She could have been a poet. But it seems to me that they have both struck up a friendship. It's good that they have each other's company.

It also appears that I will not have to worry about forgetting my wallet or watch or any other item that I only remember about when I most need it—Sehmat lays them out on the ottoman. I do not know what to make of it, really, and I'm afraid my indecision regarding my feelings might have been more apparent than I had thought, if her frown was anything to go by.

Meanwhile, the telephone has begun ringing again and it is again I who is being asked for. My relatives are all very excited about the reception, which is on Sunday, and I am...a little less so. They'll be arriving Saturday night, mostly, and leaving Monday night. Abba has convinced them to stay in the Circuit house so that it isn't a tight fit inside the house. My cousins had more things to say now that I don't think anyone should ever repeat. I wonder sometimes how we're related.

Iqbal S.


	9. The Reception

Sunday,

14th March

11:56 P.M.

The reception started and ended much the same way I had expected it to—somewhat tiring, yes, but fun. Well, most of it anyway. My aunts and sisters-in-law are quite taken by Sehmat—everyone is, once they start talking to her. She's well spoken, something she tells me she gets mostly through having studied literature, and she knows how to get people to open up to her. This, however, did not stop them from voicing the one question that they were eager to get answered. Abba, bhaijaan, bhabhi and I have all heard this question at least fifty times each in the course of 24 hours—"Why an Indian, though?" It irritates me to no end, maybe because neither of us have an answer. We were more looking at the fact that they were friends of the family, Abba's old friends which live on the other side, than the fact that they were Indian. And anyhow, no one was thinking about marriage before the proposal came.

For her part, Sehmat seems rather unconcerned about this as a whole. She looks at the offender with this innocent look and a not-as-innocent gleam in her eyes. I somehow get a feeling she has a retort on the tip of her tongue which she is biting back so that it doesn't come spilling out. It's quite amusing, really.

My cousins have, for most part, avoided indulging in their favourite pastime—annoying me—when any of the other guests are around. This saves me much effort that I would have required to school my face into an impassive mask around them and biting my tongue instead of countering their inanity with sarcasm of my own.

It has been a nice 'break', if you'd call it that, but now I'm getting a feeling that things are going to get more serious in the foreseeable future. The Eastern populace has resorted to widespread violence to show its displeasure and the peacekeepers are retaliating in kind. Lt. General Beig did hint that we would have to start assembling troops and deporting them towards East quite soon. I only hope that this doesn't take a turn for the absolute worst.

Iqbal S.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Reception shown here is not the party we see in the movie, that will come up after a few chapters.


	10. A Wont Demanding Change

Friday,

26th March

11:40 P.M.

Even though Mujibur Rehman has been arrested, and the rebels are being captured left, right and center the Eastern Populace refuses to back down. A new operation has been launched now now to round up the more vocal supporters of separation. Moreover, Major Zaiur Rehman, who was thought to be loyal to Pakistan has now declared the East's independence, which now calls itself Bangladesh. With a substantial proportion of our troops now in the East, and another substantial portion on the Indo-Pakistani border, the capital, the civil provinces, and more importantly the harbour are in danger of being too short on manpower. If we were to station the troops that are kept in reserve to these places we would be short of reserve troops and if war was to break out with India we would certainly be in a … situation. The debate regarding this is still ongoing and this time the bureaucrats have nothing to do with it at all. Their delaying the previous deployment has already cost us dearly.

Abba managed to get information on some training camps for the rogue officers that have deserted the army and joined the Awami league's regiments instead. They had already deserted the camp by the time we were able to get there, but they left behind valuable information. This has, as was desired, fueled Abba's promotion and now, instead of Farooqi, it is him who has been made the Major General. There is a celebration being held in his honour the coming week.

On the other hand, I will probably go down in history as the most tactless man alive. Just now, not fifteen minutes ago, when Sehmat and I were sitting down ad conversing, I pulled out a cigarette. And honestly, if this is not the most tactless thing I have ever done, I don't know what is. Her father is fatally sick because of a tumor in his lungs, and he has never touched a cigarette in his life, and here I am. I know I should have gotten rid of this habit a long time ago—It annoys Abba very much that both his sons smoke. Anyhow, if I cannot get rid of it, I will have to at least stop doing it in Sehmat's presence.

Iqbal S.

* * *


	11. To Find and To Loose

Sunday,

4th April

10:50 P.M.

I suppose we should have expected it, really. The media is here to bring us all to ruins again. It's not as much their reporting issues to the masses as much their dramatising the issues and events that annoy us. You might as well shut off the daily soaps on the television or the radio, because those are exactly what they are competing with. The news of the East is now spreading panic in the West as well. And really, on what basis was the media claiming that the military is going to take over the country now, anyway?

As for the East, the members of the Bihari community and the Bengali community are fleeing en masse to India, perhaps under the direction of their leaders (who all managed to go under the radar) who might have formed a government in exile by now. The attacks on our officers deployed there are increasing and they are being attacked by the Mukti Fauj, so they must be getting orders from _somewhere. _What is even worse is that India has now opened the gates at the border in the East (which is a border in only name), which means that it has now formally joined arms with the rebellion.

On the other hand, they have decided to not change the position of battalions at all, because this is by far the safest position we have in our compromised state. Although if a problem occurs, we'd have to move very quickly.

Lt. General Beig is leaving to examine a field exercise from tomorrow, and as Abba is now the senior most personnel, he is to take charge of meetings and other things for the time being.

Also, how hard is it to find a collection of Hindustani Classical music? Very, apparently. I don't understand why, it's not as if it is _unpopular_ even here. I've been haunting the records house in town for the past two weeks to procure a few CDs for Sehmat. The owner said he'd get them from Karachi, because he didn't have any here. I've been trying, over the course of the past few weeks, to get rid of my habit of smoking—something Bhaijaan has not failed to notice, but has not commented upon either. A few of the others also, are equally observant. Or maybe I used to smoke more frequently than I had thought. I'm getting rid of it, anyhow.

Iqbal S.


	12. Response

Friday,

16th April

11:35 P.M.

Not just Army officials or government employees, the Eastern Populace and the Mukti Fauj have now begun targeting the unarmed civilians also—the ones from the West. The ones who are allied with us are in mortal peril. The Easterns are as ruthless as the regiments deployed there were to them—they had done unspeakable things, things clearly against any and all morals and codes of conduct—they have resorted now to gruesome and painful ways of killing. Car bombings, guerrilla attacks and the sorts. As a result, the regiments there have also started retaliating in kind. It is a vicious cycle. It seems now that the Easterns have taken it into their heads to simply take up a stand to see who is more resilient.

The odds in my struggle against a part of myself that wished to smoke seem to be leaning in my favour. This evening, I saw that my cigarette case, which I had fully intended to remove from its position on the side table, had been replaced by a crystal container of cardamom. I suppose this action somehow both pleased and surprised me. Sehmat and I have been on more friendlier terms, which is to say that it now not as embarrassingly awkward to be in each other's presence anymore, and we are not total strangers, but this might have been the first active response I have ever gotten from her, and it feels quite rewarding. I was also finally able to give her the Hindustani Classical music CD's I procured from the Record Shop and really, I think I now understand why Bhaijaan used to—and still does— go out of his way for Munira bhabhi.

Iqbal S.


	13. A Loss

Thursday,

29th April

11:40 P.M.

We received terrible news today. Hidayat Khan Sahab—Sehmat's Abba—passed away last night in his sleep. We only got to know this morning, when Sehmat's mother gave us the news over phone. Sehmat is distraught, and understandably so. She tried to get through the day normally, but she finally broke down into tears when she caught sight of a photograph she had brought with her—one with her, considerably younger, smiling into the camera sitting beside her father in a grove of Chinar trees. She remained inconsolable for a long time, and what struck me was that I didn't know how I could help her, if at all. It was Munira bhabhi who finally got her to eat and convinced her to go to bed early, even if she has been unable to sleep.

Another person equally devastated is Abba, although he has been more successful in reigning in his emotions. While he hasn't allowed himself the liberty to cry—not in our presence anyway—his eyes betray his sorrow. He has lost a friend, one of the only people on this planet he had ever truly trusted. I don't know how to console him either, none of us do. He spent the entire day immersing himself in work, but only to distract himself. The rest of the time he spent in a disconcerting silence.

Sehmat and I will leave to attend his funeral tomorrow and come back on the second. I had suggested that she stay back there for a while longer—give herself time to heal—but she refused, looking at me with an expression that practically pleaded me to not push that argument further. Abba, even though he wished to pay his last respects to his friend in person, is not going to be joining us because of an important meeting in Islamabad on that very day which requires him to be present.

I just wish I knew how I could make them both feel better.

Iqbal S.


	14. Coping

Monday,

3rd May

11:15 P.M.

It has been less than twenty for hours since we've returned from Khan Sahab's funeral and I did not get a spare minute to check on Sehmat until a little while ago, such is the rush around the cantonment. Word is, India is planning on entering the East with the help of our rouge officers and citizens who have taken refuge in India. There is not much we can do right now, except be prepared to move quickly in case our regiments in East require assistance.

Munira bhabhi told me that Sehmat has kept unnaturally quiet ever since we've returned—something that I haven't failed to notice either—and that she has eaten very little all day, something I wasn't around to witness. Bhabhi told me that she retired to bed early today, although I am fairly certain that she is not asleep. I cannot help but feel worried about Sehmat. She does not seem to be coping well with the passing of her father—of course, one cannot expect her to. What's worrisome is that she seems to have closed up and has stopped all interaction except when absolutely necessary, which is _not_ good. I've been through it, I'd know.

I know that I had clammed up when Ammi had died. I had stopped talking to everyone, even Bhaijaan. Being happy and acting normal felt too much like betraying Ammi, and to my eleven year old self making an effort to talk to people seemed so… unnecessary. But I know for a fact that if I had talked to someone through it, all of it would have been so much easier. Acceptance would have come much sooner. To be alone in a time like this is… it's not a good place in which to be—all dark and stifling with no one to show you the light.

I know that I want to help Sehmat, and also Abba, but again, I don't know _how_. How do you convince someone who has lost someone so important in their life—lost a parent and a dear friend—that things get better, that it's going to be okay? And _how_ do you convince someone to lower the walls of the fortress that they have built and let you in?

_I don't know_, diary, but I'll have to find out.

Iqbal S.


	15. Grief

Tuesday,

4th May

11:45 P.M.

The utter chaos that had descended upon the Cantonment has been lifted now that Abba is back from Islamabad. He took charge as soon as he stepped in the Cantonment this morning and so, thanks to him, our troops are all organized and we have established contact with other Cantonments and other parts of the country. We have a few moments to breathe now, before we receive more news.

When Abba had finished taking reports from us and had finally settled into his chair back home he asked after Sehmat and Ammi Ji. I didn't really know what to tell him. They’re both saddened and shaken, and very much in pain, and trying to function the best they can after the loss of an integral part of their lives. Just like Abba himself has been doing for the past thirteen years. Just like all of us have. He sat back and rubbed his face, and remained that way for a while, his hand shielding his face from other eyes, and I could tell how much it had really hurt him. The only time I had seen him like this was when Ammi had died. I wanted to help him somehow, and comfort him, but again I just don't know how. He finally let his hand down with a sad smile and it might just have broken my heart a little, seeing him so … helpless. But he carried on with business as usual, even as Sehmat dropped in to remind us of the time. 

Abba thinks that Sehmat should go stay with her mother for a few days, and give them both time to heal. Except I had already suggested so to her while we were there, and she had declined it quite firmly. It hurt her too much to walk the pathways that they had always traversed together without him.  _ _ She looked so vulnerable in that moment, I didn’t have the heart to press any further. I told him as much. He sighed heavily, and then, from across the desk, he took hold of my hand and reminded me again what my conscience has been telling me for a while now. The best way in which I can help her, is to be there for her—to let her know that I am there for her. He retired for the night after that, and I wandered back towards my bedroom. The best way to help  _ anyone _ is to be there for them. But how do I be there for Abba now, when I’ve been so detached from him all these years? 

Sehmat had already fallen asleep to the sound of Getz and Gilberto by the time I came in, so I couldn’t talk to her. She looked troubled even in her sleep. 

I remember when she was still alive, Ammi used to have a favourite pair of anklets. They were silver, simple in design but elegant nevertheless. Just before her death, when she was in the hospital, she had entrusted Bhaijaan and I with some of her jewellery. To give to our future brides, she had said, in case she didn’t make it. She died the morning after. Her anklets are probably the only possession of hers that I have, and the most important of all that I own. I had hoped to present Sehmat with them under different circumstances, but I do not see a better way of conveying to her that I know what she’s going through. That I’ll be beside her through it all. 

It’s been a long day.

Iqbal S.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Guest, Thank You for your lovely review! It made my day and gave me inspiration to write! :) I hope you enjoy this as much as the other chapters. :D


	16. Progress Through The Pain

Tuesday,

11th May

10:15 P..M.

After an entire week of tension and chaos things appear to have calmed down in the East. The Field Marshal has chosen to send a disciplined envoy of a few high ranking soldiers over there to keep an eye on the situation. Many parts of the state are still under a violent anti-Bengali drill. On a further low, news from over there tells us we are quickly losing support from the few supporters we had in the East—but really, what would anyone expect after such brutal killings? Not just the Bengalis, all of the civilians are being threatened by one group or another. Local no-good mobsters are playing on the widespread sentiment of fear and mistrust and indulging in robberies and violence and further propelling the situation downhill. The Bengali supporters have been keeping a suspiciously low profile and another large section has fled to India.

The situation is equally tense here in the West as a result. We have sent part of our troops to East, and security has been tightened around the capital for the fear of attacks by the Mukti Fauj, so the security around the cantonment has been slightly compromised. None of us have been home for more than four hours for the past week, nor have we had much sleep. In fact, Abba is still in a meeting with Lt. General Beig.

Munira bhabhi has been looking after Sehmat for the past few days since I cannot, and perhaps she is having some effect on her too—some colour has returned to her face and she has begun to engage herself in some amount of work, both around the house, and regarding her father’s business, which is now up to her to run. She’s resumed stepping out of the house now—she likes visiting the Mosque nearby and getting flowers for the house. She is now thinking of moving the business here, so that she can oversee it easily. 

I haven’t yet gotten around to giving her Ammi’s anklets, or talking to her properly about the subject, or doing half the things that I should’ve done—I haven't gotten the time. We’ve had a long and particularly simple-and-unemotional conversation for the first time in  _ days _ since Khan Sahab’s death, and I did feel that she was doing all she could to avoid having to talk about her father, even if I didn’t mention it. I’m not sure how avoiding it would help her, or if it would help  _ at all _ . At some point all of the emotional baggage will begin to weigh her down and that is not a good mental space in which to be. But whatever comes, we will deal. 

Iqbal. S

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please tell me how you like it :

**Author's Note:**

> This series will not include all the entries in his diary, and only a few. So we can always assume that he did write but I didnt


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